


A Soft Green Glow

by Sharkseye



Category: Naruto
Genre: Altered Mental States - due to blood loss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkseye/pseuds/Sharkseye
Summary: Returning from an ambush that killed his entire team and near fatally wounded him, Izuna finds himself followed by an enemy far more dangerous than the ones he left behind.  Even if he makes it back to Uchiha lands, he'll be killed long before help can arrive.  That is, if the blood loss doesn't get him first.~*~The title of my notes on this is 'Tobirama Escorts Izuna Home'.  That's it, that's the story.Due to popular demand, there is now a second chapter!





	1. Izuna

**Author's Note:**

> So I read Fiction_Over_Fact's amazing Steadfast series, and was instantly filled with the need to contribute with my own Izuna/Tobirama fic. Obviously it didn't get that far, nor is it as high quality as theirs, but I figured I'd post it anyways. In my defense, it was supposed to be a lot longer, but last night before going to sleep I decided to throw a bunch of characters together and accidentally fleshed out yet another long fic that I now need to be working on. Will add a short description to my profile, if anyone's interested. 
> 
> Please let me know if you see any mistakes or parts that don't make sense. Rated Mature for some swearing, bit of blood, and an ignorance of rating requirements.

Izuna could do this.  He could.  It was just one more step.  Just one more.  Then another.  And another.  And again one more step.  Then again.  A few more.  Just a-

His vision whited out as he hit the ground hard, his wounded side smacking into the rock that had tripped him.  His breath left him in a rush, and he wasted a few moments gaping, desperately trying to suck in air.  Somewhere in the part of his mind still capable of rational thought, he hoped nothing had torn again.  The feel of freshly soaking bandages proved the futility of that optimism.  

When he could finally breathe enough to move again, he rolled himself off the rock, regretting the move instantly when he then landed on his back, the air once again driven from his lungs.  At least there was a helpful tree right next to him when he regained said lost air.  Really helpful, even having a low branch to assist in pulling himself up.  Sitting legs out with his back against the tree wasn’t the most defensible situation, but was the best he could do right now.

Allowing himself to briefly recover from the fall, Izuna took a deep breath before looking down, gritting his teeth at the sight that awaited him. 

Three hours prior, when he'd escaped a frankly ridiculously oversized post-mission ambush with little more than his life, and neither of the two cousins that’d been with him, the wound had been bad.  It had worsened when he’d twisted at the last moment to light the bodies of his kin on fire with a quick burning jutsu, then worsened again in his escape.  Again, the first time he’d fallen, and again, the first bandits he encountered, looking to steal his money and left behind without their lives.  Again just now, landing on the rocky ground.  He was almost afraid to unwrap it.  Then again, it wouldn’t really matter now even if he did get the bandages off.  Seeing the wound wouldn’t change anything.  Not to mention it would require putting more bandages back on, and he didn’t have any clean ones. 

Maybe he could just lie there for a bit.  Sit and wait ‘til he got his strength back.  Just for a little while.  Then he’d get up and finish running home to his clan.  For now, he would just, recover his strength.  For a while.  Here, on the floor, bleeding out against a random tree.

No.

No.  He couldn’t do that. 

Madara would be inconsolable if he died out here.  It would be terrible.  There’d be tears, that kind of devastating ugly crying that made Izuna cry, and Madara’d already survived the loss of their other brothers, there was no way he’d survive loosing Izuna too.  Not without either imploding or exploding, and if Izuna knew his brother at all, he could confidentially say Madara would see little issue in destroying the world if Izuna died.  He wouldn’t do any less for Madara, after all. 

So no allowing death.  A child could probably kill him at the moment—and didn’t that just feel too close to not being an over exaggeration—but as long as he continued unnoticed, he could maybe still make it back to his brother. 

Izuna opened his eyes again, not sure when he’d let them close.  No, he wouldn’t do anything less for Madara, and that required getting up to continue his painful journey home, no matter how unappealing that sounded.  It would, just take a bit. 

Grasping at the tree again for its helpful handhold, Izuna managed to pull himself back up, keeping a firm grasp as what blood was still left in his body made its slow ascent back up to his brain.  It took him a while to stagger forwards too, but he got there. 

Or, at least, a little further to there.  And then a little further again, and a little further again.  And then to an abrupt stop, because something wasn’t right.  Beyond the blood still draining from his side, the chakra exhaustion, and the various other cuts and bruises, at least.

A kunai made its way into his hand, only ease of practice hiding the soon to be lethal motion.  Ill-weighted and not originally his, but Izuna was still an Uchiha, no matter how much blood he’d lost.  This may be his death—and it would kill Madara, what was he going to _do_ without Izuna, the Senju would probably prey on him in his grief and it would be his end, be their clan's end—but he wasn’t going out alone. 

The stop had probably already alerted whoever was following him that something more was wrong, so Izuna took a few more stumbling steps forward, almost overemphasizing his uneven gate to throw them off.  Even given that they weren’t exactly trying to hide, they were still far enough behind that he couldn’t tell if it was a shinobi or not.  Wouldn’t really make a difference at this point, but Izuna would be furious if he was killed by a random bandit, even if he did take the bastard with him.  Over killed.  Whoever it was couldn’t honestly claim his death given how weakened he already was, though it was likely they would anyways.  Irksome.  Hopefully Madara wouldn’t fall for it.  At t least he’d end up killing everyone this follower had ever loved, so that kind of made up for it.  Not really. 

Another stumbling step forward, but this time he let himself overextend the twist as if to catch himself on yet another helpful tree.  At the last second he flung the kunai, flipping so his back hit the bark instead of his side, bringing up his far too heavy sword in his other hand while the first weapon was still in the air. 

This, proved not to be the best tactic. 

Positively it meant he had something to hold him up, less positively, well.  It meant he lost the ability to breathe unimpeded, his wound let out a fresh gush of blood, and his vision went all blurry, taking up a few precious seconds before he could make out Senju Tobirama standing on a tree above him, one hand outstretched to grasp the blade Izuna had thrown.  Well, at least this meant Madara would be unlikely to fall for the Senju’s schemes.  It’d probably renew the bloodier days of the war, but that was still better than submitting to the bastards. 

“Senju.”  Izuna greeted, forcing out as much killing intent as he could muster alongside the words.  “Have I told you lately how much I utterly loath you?”

Said Senju tilted his head, watching Izuna coolly.  “I assure you the feeling is entirely mutual.”

Bastard.  And he wouldn’t even meet Izuna’s eyes to be taken out with the sharingan.  Never mind that using a powerful enough genjutsu to catch _Senju Tobirama_ was more than Izuna could possibly handle at the moment, mangekyō or not.

“You must just love this.”  Izuna said, irked by the man’s impassive gaze cataloguing Izuna’s wounds.  He rarely broke the mask in battle, but that didn’t stop its irritating effectiveness.  “I only regret I’ll not be there to see Madara killing you once I’m gone.”

And fuck, what was Madara going to do?  Once Izuna was gone he’d be all alone.  He always forgot to eat or to sleep at a decent time, and though Hikaku tried to help him out, Izuna would be one of the first to admit Madara had little to no social skills, with a talent for driving people away.  It was one thing when there was still even the smallest sliver of hope, but facing up against an armed, hale Senju Tobirama, Izuna knew there was no way he would make it home to his brother.

The Senju didn’t even have the decency to look pleased with Izuna’s upcoming death, still just watching him like he couldn’t care less about his greatest rival’s wounded state. 

“What killed you?”  Tobirama finally broke the silence, lowering Izuna’s found kunai and leaping to a closer branch with insulting ease. 

“None of your business.”  Izuna glared.  “And I’m not dead yet.”

He’d not thought his rival could get any more infuriating, but the raised eyebrow proved him wrong.  As did the still completely unconcerned, slightly patronizing tone in which Tobirama stated, “You won’t make it back like that.”

Why, of all the people in the Elemental Nations, did it have to  _Tobirama_ who’d stumbled across him?  The Senju's idiot brother would be more welcome at this point.  “Watch me.”  Izuna snapped. 

At least his brother would remind him of Madara and his temporary Senju stupidity from when he was younger; and here and there more recently, because he just couldn't let the whole thing _go_.  Tobirama only reminded him of that trade route they’d desperately needed and lost a week previous because the man had somehow crossed nearly half of Rain Country in half again the time it took three of the Uchiha’s fastest shinobi.

Tilting his head again, like an animal playing with its prey, Tobirama let out a hum of consideration.  “Alright.” 

“What?”  Izuna asked, thrown.

Tobirama raised that damn eyebrow again.

“You’re, what? You’re going to follow me around until I die?”  Izuna sputtered uncomprehendingly.  Whether the disconnect was due to blood loss or because Tobirama was _fucking insane,_ he didn’t know.  Well, he did, it was obviously the latter, but still.  He’d known Tobirama was blunt, but he hadn’t thought that he was capable of this kind of prolonged cruelty.  “You’re disgusting.” 

“You have little room to talk, Uchiha.”  Tobirama said, examining Izuna’s side from afar like he could will the blood to come out faster.  Given what kind of horrific jutsu he came to the field with and his proven proficiency in suiton jutsus, Izuna wouldn’t even find it surprising if he could. 

“I have all the room to talk.  You’re planning on stalking me until either I die or get close enough to my clan’s lands that you kill me anyways.”  Izuna snarled.  “I knew the Senju were cruel, honourless bastards, but I didn’t think you were this spineless.” 

Spineless hadn’t been the word he wanted, but he was far too angry to care.  That was it.  He wasn’t going to see Madara again.  Even if he made it close to home, Tobirama would still be there to ensure his death. 

“We’re shinobi, not samurai.”  Tobirama responded easily, finally looking up to his mouth.  Maybe if Izuna ducked he could catch his eye line by surprise?  He’d probably collapse too, so maybe that wasn’t the best plan.  “I’m surprised you thought differently.” 

“Me too.”  Izuna pushed himself off the tree, brandishing his still far too heavy weapon.  It hadn’t been this heavy since he was much smaller.  Blood loss was making him _really_ weak. “Come down here and do it.”

The bastard had the audacity to look displeased, frowning at Izuna's attempt to have even a semi-honourable last stand.  True, they weren’t samurai and they didn’t fight with honour, but that didn’t mean Izuna was going out with his back turned. 

“I’m not going to do that.”  Was the simple reply, and Izuna snarled again, a wordless, inarticulate sound of rage.

How _dare_ he try and steal Izuna’s death like this? 

He could’ve accepted dying in battle against Tobirama, wouldn’t have been happy about it, would’ve regretted not at least taking the Senju bastard with him, but this was-  For all that Izuna lived in a society where young and bloody deaths weren’t only expected, but to a point encouraged, he had no words for this.  For how horrible the Senju was.  He’d ignored all Madara’s tentative attempts at mentioning a peace with the Senju, and he’d been right to do it too.  That was his only consolation.  Madara would never make peace with the Senju if Izuna also died at the hands of one of them.

It was also the worst thing about his upcoming death, that knowledge that Madara would be the last of their once large family.  All four of his brother’s lives taken at Senju hands.  Izuna was going to miss Madara, so, so much.  His lovely idiot of a brother, who was going to be alone because Senju Fucking Tobirama had found Izuna while he was too injured to fight back. 

“Why are you even here?”  Izuna asked, rage adding a growl.  He knew Tobirama was a sensor too, but they hadn’t been able to figure out his range yet.  As long as it was smaller than Madara’s, maybe there was still a chance.  He could cling to that.

Finally something like discontent crossed Tobirama’s face.  A victory, even if unintentional.  “You weren’t on the battlefield, so brother thought my skills were best served elsewhere.”

And that didn’t make any sense at all.  Not only did Tobirama have the cruelty needed to pursue him like little more than wounded prey, he also had the audacity to lie to him as he did so. 

Absolutely finished, Izuna whipped around, pushing off the helpful tree and stumbling in the direction of home.  Madara was a sensor, he’d feel Izuna getting close.  Even if Izuna died on the border, Madara wouldn’t be far behind Tobirama when he fled.  If Izuna wasn’t surviving the night, the bastard Senju wouldn’t either. 

 

 

Tobirama had the nerve to ensure Izuna could hear him as he traversed the trees above, a constant reminder that home may lie ahead, but there would be no peace found there.  He tried to look on the bright side in that it meant he was always aware of where the other was, but that mattered less and less as the day went on.  As his mind went off on tangents and he found himself stumbling again and again, crashing to the ground and rising slower each time. 

The fourth time he hit the earth he was somewhat stunned to find it might also be the last.  It was already hard enough to work through the pain, but now he was just so confused and so tired, and the rocky ground, which had seemed hard and jagged when he’d hit it, actually felt rather comfortable.  Almost nice enough to relax into.

“Why are you trying so hard to get back?” 

He didn’t have enough energy to jump.  Turning his head, Izuna squinted up at Tobirama, the Senju now only a couple paces away on the rocky forest floor. 

“What?”  He asked somewhat inanely. 

Tobirama glared, like Izuna was doing him some kind of major disservice by asking him to repeat himself.  Really should speak more clearly if he wanted an answer.  Or maybe shouldn’t stalk people until their inevitable demise. 

“Why,”  He began again, still conveying that the whole thing was a major chore, even though it would be extremely easy for him to just turn and walk away, leaving Izuna to his fate without all the unnecessary gloating, “Do you want to go home.”

Why was he trying to get back to his brother?  That was the dumbest question Izuna had ever heard, and he’d grown up with, well, his brother.

“Dumb.”  He managed, frowning at his mouth’s lackluster performance.  “Madara.”  That hadn’t worked either.  “You’re dumb.  Madara isn’t.  Mostly.”  Nailed it.

 “I would wager Madara is far more than mostly not dumb.”  Tobirama rudely disagreed, as if Izuna wanted his opinion anyway. 

“Shud-up.”  Izuna instructed.  “You’re dumb.  Hashi- shi- Hashiyamna’s dumb.”  Damn it, what was the elder Senju’s name?  Hashirayy?  Ha-shiro?

Tobirama nodded gravely, seemingly unconcerned with the butchering of his brother’s name.  Of course he wouldn’t be.  Unfeeling Senju.  Cold and pretty as an ice sculpture Izuna had seen once.  Didn’t care about insults to his brother.  Probably wouldn’t even cry if his brother died.  “Given what I’m in the middle of doing, I find I can’t argue either of those points.” 

That derailed Izuna’s train of thought somewhat, and he frowned, trying to parse out the meaning.  “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing I will ever admit.”  He muttered, then asked in a clearer voice.  “What will, _Madara_ do if you don’t come home.” 

“Cry.”  Izuna answered immediately.  That question had answered itself in his head far too many times in the past day.  He didn’t want Madara to cry.  It was really upsetting, something Izuna wanted to avoid at all costs. 

“Cry?”  Tobirama repeated incredulously, interrupting the edge Izuna had nearly tipped over into all the reasons Madara had cried in the past.  It was a rather devastating list, interspersed with hints of amusement. 

That was rude.  Beyond the fact that Izuna probably shouldn’t be sharing such, facts, with Tobirama, the other needn’t sound so disgusted.  As if crying was something disgraceful, and not extremely necessary when it came to mental stability. 

“Right.”  Tobirama said quickly, apparently temporarily getting over his aversion to healthy emotional habits.  “Well.  Do you want Madara to cry?” 

“No.”  Izuna near hissed, realizing he’d accidentally dropped his glare and bringing it back tenfold.  Or as well as he could manage at the moment. 

Of course he didn’t want Madara to cry.  Madara cried and Izuna would start crying, and if Hikaku made the mistake of being in the same room he’d start crying too.  Sharingan were the best and made the Uchiha far superior to any other clan, but upon awakening they tended to throw out terrible very literally unforgettable memories at the worst times, heaping sadness upon sadness.  Izuna dying would be a terrible sadness for Madara.

“It seems to me like you do.”  Tobirama said, casually flicking an unnoticeable speck of dust off his arm.  “After all, if you didn’t, I’d imagine you’d be on your way back to the Uchiha compound about now.”

“Shud-up!”  Izuna snapped, eyes going wide.  The sharingan flickered and died, taking with it chakra he couldn’t afford to lose.

Tobirama just raised his eyebrows at Izuna's chin, looking for all the world like he couldn’t care less whatever the outcome.  Bastard.  Bastard was going to kill him when he got home anyways.  Didn’t even matter.  But Izuna wasn’t going to let him win.  Wasn’t going to lay there and listen to this, like Tobirama had _any_ idea what he was talking about. 

Letting out an angry snarl, Izuna pushed himself up, getting his knees under him and using yet another conveniently placed tree to get the rest of the way.  Tobirama didn’t even have the decency to look worried, so Izuna snarled at him too.  No way was he going to let the bastard win so easily. 

He’d show him, step by step.  Izuna would get back to Uchiha lands, and it would be fine, and he would do it.  Madara would sense him and send himself and a team to help him out. Madara would absolutely _flatten_ Tobirama.  It would be beautiful.  Izuna couldn’t wait. 

 

 

Daydreaming about Tobirama’s imminent demise at his brother’s hands kept Izuna up and moving for long enough that the stony forest floor turned to a nicer and far more manageable dirt and moss.  Not super close to home, but closer, much closer.  So close he was beginning to feel hopeful again.  He obviously couldn’t outrun Tobirama or beat him, but there was still a chance for help.

It would be lovely.  A group of cousins appearing, Madara at the head to spit a giant fireball right into the middle of Tobirama’s stupid face.  The bastard would likely counter the first attack, but against Madara he’d only be able to defend.  Hashirama might’ve been able to match Izuna’s brother, but Izuna knew the difference between himself and _his_ brother, and for the ghostly Senju, things would not go well at-

He was on his back on the ground, blinking up at the branches overhead.  How..?  How had that happened? 

There was a death gurgle quite close by, then a scream that dissolved into agonized wailing. 

Really, whoever it was really should have the decency to die quicker.  Or at least quieter.  All the shrieking was annoying and highly unnecessary.  Another, higher voice joined in on the pained noise, and Izuna rolled his eyes.  They got stuck when he was looking upwards, but it was the thought that counted.

A surge of chakra almost tempted Izuna into lifting his head, then the sight of water being drawn from thin air above him in a far too familiar way convinced him.

Craning his neck so he could look towards his feet and the annoying noises, Izuna let out a small note of thoughtfulness.  Tobirama was, fighting?  Or, well, slaughtering would probably be more accurate.  Having slaughtered?  Finished slaughtering?  Definitely finished.

The Senju rose from the crouch he’d been in, glancing around once before striding over to the still wailing lump of bloody flesh and doing something out of Izuna’s line of sight.  The wailing stopped though, so that was nice.  Four other bodies littered the ground that Izuna could see, all dressed in a mishmash of clothing that labeled them bandits as much as clan crests labeled him and the Senju shinobi. 

Said Senju glanced at Izuna briefly—still not meeting his eyes, really, the least Tobirama could do was make this a little easier for him—before disappearing out of sight.  Only momentarily, then he was back, bloodied knife in hand.  Tobirama proceeded to do something with the dead bodies, and Izuna let himself lay back again, frowning up at the sky. 

It was a really nice view.  Granted, a few less trees would display the sky better, and more trees would feel closer to home, but Izuna supposed he’d take what he could get.  Not much choice in the matter.

A white haired bastard appeared in his field of view, and red eyes focused on his mouth.

“You should look into my eyes.”  He informed Tobirama.  It really would make things so much easier.

“Even if I did, do you really think you have the strength to activate the mangekyō?”  Tobirama asked, as if that was a perfectly polite and normal thing to say, and not rather rude. 

“Rude.”  He informed Tobirama as such, and caught the slightest twitch of the Senju’s lips.  Had he been about to snarl at Izuna?  _Rude_. 

“I’m afraid I have no desire left to be polite, nor ever had the desire to please you.  Now get up.”  The order was, frankly, completely out of nowhere.  Since when did Tobirama get off on ordering him around? 

“No.”

The blankness turned into a frown.  “Get up.”

“No.  I won’t.”  Izuna frowned right back at him, then returned his gaze to the sky.  “'Sides, s’almost night.  Time to sleep.”

“You’re a shinobi, you should be used to late nights.”

Izuna didn’t even dignify that with an answer, making as grand of a show as he could of ignoring the Senju. 

“Blood loss really turns you into an idiot, doesn’t it.”  Tobirama stated.

“Rude.”  Izuna repeated with a scowl, looking back at Tobirama, then getting stuck following his red slashes.  They highlighted the sharp lines of his face quite nicely.  At least Izuna’s death would be attractive, though he couldn’t really figure out why the Senju would’ve gotten them.  He’d never stuck Izuna as one for vanity.  “What’s- Why?”

“Why what.” 

That was also probably supposed to be a question, but Izuna forgave him for missing the mark.  “Lines.  Why?”

They were actually very attractive when held alongside the rest of Tobirama’s face and body, but the ensemble kind of lost it near the finish, given that they were attached to a cruel monster who’d see Izuna’s whole clan dead and not bat an eye over it. 

There was a long, drawn out sigh, like the air being let out of a balloon, and Tobirama disappeared without answering Izuna’s question.  His chakra was still there though, close enough Izuna could feel it, so he wasn’t too worried. 

The sky was getting darker at a nearly alarming rate anyways, so he had much better things to focus on.  The speed with which it was changing had to be artificially manufactured, but Izuna didn’t get much time to contemplate the mystery.  No, once again, Tobirama had to ruin things.

If a little more intimately than Izuna was used to, all things considered. 

“No.”  He instructed, flopping his head back and glaring up at the shinobi dragging him across the ground.

“I’m hardly about to give you access to my neck or back.”  Tobirama grumbled, belying his words as he lifted Izuna completely off the ground to avoid a root structure. 

Izuna hissed as the motion jostled his side, feeling more liquid dribble down.  How much blood was it someone could survive loosing?  One and a half liters of blood?  Two?  He was pretty sure it was the first, second with chakra healing.  He was also pretty sure he was edging into the second by now, if not already far past. 

Madara was going to be so upset, Izuna dying at the hands of some random ambush shinobi.  Least his death would probably be attributed to Tobirama.  Still sucked, but it was a better sounding death, so there was that.

“Brother is going to owe me his firstborn child for this.”  Tobirama hissed nonsensically somewhere above Izuna, thankfully holding off on more jostling movements.  “Not that either of us are _ever_ telling him.”

Familiar hands wrapped around Izuna’s back and legs, neatly avoiding his wound as the ground disappeared out from below.  For a couple seconds vertigo hit Izuna like a raging bull, then he was tucked against a broad chest.  Instinctively Izuna snuggled into it, well used to Madara’s over mothering ways. 

“Love you ‘Dara.”  He mumbled, one hand clinging to the top of a lightly padded chest plate.  It was quite comfortable, but Izuna found himself frowning.  That didn’t smell _or_ feel like Madara. 

Nor would Madara stumble and nearly fall like that, _especially_ not while holding Izuna.  Who-?

“Who’re yo- Oh.”  Izuna glared as hard as he could at the astonished face staring back at him.  “You.”

Red eyes were finally meeting Izuna’s own, and he was sure there was something important about that, but found he couldn’t quite grasp what.  It passed quickly enough anyways, Tobirama shaking his head and then moving forward again, making the world spin around Izuna.  Least it was less bumpy than the ground had been.

 

 

Again Izuna lost time, and then he was lying on his back, staring up at the underside of more tree leaves, these ones bathed in a soft green glow.  For no particular reason that he could discern, he was feeling a little better.  He was also pretty sure he was being insulted. 

“- your whole clan is a plague upon this earth, and we’d all be better off well rid of you”   A voice, _Tobirama’s_ voice was muttering from somewhere below Izuna.  “ _My_ brother is an idiot, who got taken in by _your_ brother, and it’s going to get him killed one day unless someone does the rest of the world a favor and removes your brother from the gene-pool first.”  Izuna let out a small noise of protest.  That was _mean_.  Tobirama, somewhat predictably, ignored him.   “And like every other time you're off the field, brother is going to keep sending me out on missions far away and below my skill level, again because of your brother.  So I’m very angry at all of you.  I doubt I’m accurately conveying the enormity of the point I’m trying to make, but I also doubt you’d understand even if I was.  You mindless fool.  Going off to get yourself killed right as I was heading home, making yourself _my_ problem.” 

The last part was muttered as if Tobirama was winding down, and Izuna took the chance to form a retort, hoping to stop the rant before it went on much longer.  “You’re really rude.”

He didn’t remember blood loss ever edging people into a sort of clarity after a certain point, but Izuna found he actually felt, well, not clear, nor good, but like his brain was working again.  Probably hallucinating, he decided, shifting a bit so he could narrow his eyes at Tobirama once more.  That would actually make a lot of sense.  Not that the Senju cruelly stalking him to his death didn’t make sense, but hallucinations could fit the bill.  Having never lost this much blood before he couldn’t be sure, but he’d been there with other shinobi as they bled out.  It had always seemed more unpleasant from the other side. 

“You don’t get to talk.”  Tobirama glared up at him, green light glinting oddly off his almost sharingan red eyes.  “Whatever Senju blood on your hands will now also be on mine.  _You_ _don’t get to speak._ ” 

“Serves you right after all the Uchiha you’ve killed.”  Izuna shot back.  Huh, he had actually been able to hear his own tired slur that time.  Usually he couldn’t. 

Fire erupted in Izuna’s stomach and he curled around the hot brand on his wound, not enough air making it to his lungs to add sound to his agonized cry. 

The pain was gone as quickly as it came, and he was left gasping, grasping at his wounded side, distantly confused about the hand already there. 

“Fuck.”  Tobirama whispered, turning his face away. 

“It seems I would kill you quickly, at least.”  He added after nearly a minute of Izuna’s gasping the only noise between them. 

“Not got the stomach for doing it slowly?”  Izuna asked, the taunt falling flat in the reediness of his voice. 

“I will do whatever is necessary to protect my brother and clan.”  Tobirama snapped, strangely defensive.  It wasn’t the same as anger, but any reaction was a victory, so Izuna went with it.  The whole rant could be counted a major win.  

“Right, of course.”  He laughed, waiting for his lungs to start working again so he could properly mock the Senju.

He might have been feeling better, but that didn’t mean his brain was firing at a hundred percent.  Talking while fighting wasn’t something they were as big on as their respective brothers, but even with the few words they’d exchanged, he’d always gotten the sense that Tobirama considered them weapons as sharp as blades. 

A glance at the Senju showed Izuna’s last words having landed closer than he’d thought, and he felt his own eyes widening in reflection of Tobirama’s stunned red ones, going back over what they’d said.  What had hit?

“I suppose I needn’t wonder anymore,” Tobirama said finally, still staring directly at Izuna, the most out of sorts Izuna had ever seen him. “What’s more important to me.  My brother or my clan.”

A bloodstained hand obscured Izuna’s view completely as he belatedly activated his sharingan.  It didn’t cause nearly the strain he’d expected, staring up at the palm of Tobirama’s hand as the Senju drew on his forehead, and Izuna scrunched up his nose, wondering what was going on. 

Before he could grasp anything more than the futility of his thoughtless kekkei genkai use, the world was shut away.

 

~*~

 

Opening his eyes was almost a surprise, and Izuna spent a few minutes just blinking, staring out into the morning light.  Sometime during the night he’d rolled onto his side, leaving him looking out over the clumsily cleaned up remains of a small campsite.  He licked his lips, grimacing.  Also sometime during the night something had died in his mouth.  He paused, blinking again, slowly.  Given that Izuna’s memory was uncompromised, _he_ should’ve been what died. 

Sitting up cautiously now, Izuna checked his immediate surroundings for traps, for some reason unsurprised to find none.  Exploring first with his fingers before looking down, Izuna found his wound rebandaged with new, clean white cloth.  Unwrapping it, Izuna took another few minutes to sit and stare. 

When he’d first taken the knife to his gut, it had been ugly, only made worse with time and running.  A jagged gash, ripped at the edges and letting out a constant flow of blood that had slowed to a slow but continuous trickle.  Now it looked nearly a month old.  Not yet a scar, but neither something that would threaten his life.  With the Uchiha’s own healers, he likely wouldn’t be out of commission for longer than a couple weeks. 

Rewrapping the bandages on autopilot, Izuna set about hiding what remained of the camp, brushing dirt around and burning the moss he’d been lying on, now soaked in his blood.  A lot of it, considering that that had been the end of his run.  He would’ve never made it home, if not for-  He would've been killed by a nameless ambush shinobi.  Instead, he’d been found, stalked, and hea- 

The wound pulled as Izuna set off without caring to clean himself up, but it was nothing he’d not dealt with before.  Made all the better with the ease he reached a high branch, re-beginning the run back.  Just a twinge, nowhere near close to what it’d been the whole rest of the run prior, or when Tobirama had done whatever he’d done to hurt Izuna the night before.  Much better, because Tobirama had-  Had-  No, no thinking it.  No going there.  Ever.

 

 

The Uchiha lands were closer than he’d thought in his stupor, and it was only a couple hours of denial and avoidance before he was passing patrols, automatically relaxing into familiar surroundings, and slowing to a stop before the entrance to the compound.  Knowing he looked like something out of a shinobi’s nightmare didn’t stop him from immediately heading towards the _firewarmthlove_ swell of Madara’s chakra, something he could always sense even far beyond his reach.  A sudden spike preceded the chakra moving, and Izuna stumbled slightly as Madara came into view, Hikaku following.  There might’ve been others—it looked like Madara had been in a meeting—but Izuna only had eyes for his bother.  His brother, who he might not have ever seen again if it wasn’t for-  Madara would’ve already worried, was very obviously currently worried, but if it hadn’t been for, if.  Madara’s fears would’ve been realized.  Izuna could’ve never come back, and Madara would’ve been mourning yet another brother. 

All the exhaustion and confusion hit at once, and Izuna practically threw himself the last couple steps into his brother’s arms, shoving his face into Madara’s neck and breathing as his brother’s panicked words washed over him.  Madara would make everything better.

“—happened!  Izuna you’re covered in blood, who, are you alright, what-?”  Madara moved as if to pull away, but Izuna only tightened his grip, wordlessly needing comfort.  Arms wrapped around him in response, temporarily halting their search for wounds, and Madara forcibly relaxed into him. 

“You’re late.”  He mumbled into Izuna’s hair. 

“Sorry.”  Izuna let out a choked laugh.  “Got a bit held up.” 

Madara hummed in response, the noise sending comforting vibrations through him.  “Why is there a smeared seal on your forehead?  And why’s it painted in your blood?”

There was?  That would make sense, given that To- the Senj- Given that there’d been a bloody finger drawing on him, putting him immediately to sleep.  Rude.  And terrifying, being at Tobirama’s mercy while completely unconscious and wounded.  Not that anything bad had happened, if anything, Izuna now owe-  It just, wasn’t a good time.

“It’s a sleep seal.”  Izuna murmured.  Maybe they could redraw it and start using it themselves.  It had seemed to take forever to draw when- he’d been creating it, but that could’ve been an illusion brought on by pain and exhaustion.  Given that they didn’t have any similar seals while the Senju were off all buddy-buddy with the Uzumaki, it would be useful to look into.

“And it is my blood, but I’m fine.”  Izuna added before Madara could tense up again, snuggling further into thick hair that was usually rather annoying, getting absolutely everywhere—especially his mouth and food—but right now felt like the most comfortable face rest in the world.

“Bullshit.”  Madara chided.  He was doing a remarkable job of staying relaxed for Izuna, even though he could feel the undercurrent of tension just bursting at the seams.  “You’re not getting out of telling me who put a seal on you, let alone so close to your eyes, but first you’re going straight to a healer.” 

“Already been.”  Izuna said without thinking, then winced.

“You just got back.”  Ah, and there was the tension slowly escaping.  “Izuna, who did-“

Izuna frowned as Madara froze completely, a sense of sudden foreboding hitting him. 

“Izuna…”  A hand curled around the back of Izuna’s neck to keep his head down, Madara leaning forward to look at something on his back. 

Shit, Izuna hadn’t checked himself for traps beyond that initial cursory scan.  Had Tobirama left some kind of seal time bomb set to go off once he was among allies again?  Of course the Senju wouldn’t just heal him out of the non-existent good of his heart, no, he’d use Izuna as a unknowing traitor to his clan, to Madara, and-

“Izuna.”  Madara repeated, voice carefully calm, breaking through Izuna's growing panic.  “Why is the Senju crest painted over the uchiwa fan on your back?”

Tobirama, Izuna decided, was a walking dead man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can be read as the start to a canon divergence where Izuna and Madara are convinced to seek peace again due to Tobirama's actions, or canon complacent, in which the whole thing is brushed aside and Tobirama kills Izuna anyway. Even though they had a moment. Personally I'm definitely going with the former. (As can be seen in chapter two)
> 
> Characterization-wise, I can see Tobirama using torture where necessary when his seals, jutsu, and actual rational psychology doesn't work, but beyond that I kind of think of him as someone who'd prefer giving out quick, clean deaths. Nothing to be achieved reveling in someone else's pain. Kind of ironic, given Izuna's whole ending. I'm not a hundred percent on the earlier rant, but I wasn't sure how else to get it in there, and wanted to get this posted, so I'm going with it. Then the whole crest thing at the ending? Pure spite, that's it. Tobirama's pissed off. 
> 
> Also, Izuna? You're in a forest. There are indeed a great deal of helpful trees in a forest.


	2. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a general desire for more, I decided to write more! I meant to post this yesterday at the latest, but then my computer decided it was a good day to die, and despite spending literal hours going through long, agonizing fixes for it, the errors I had in the beginning were the same ones I had at the end, plus one other one. So all throughout my editing and right now it's been running solely on God's grace and nearly shot nerves, but I'm determined to get this posted before it throws in the towel. Which hopefully doesn't actually happen. I will be going over this chapter again with the edit brush, some bits I'm not happy with, but first I've got to fix the computer. 
> 
> Continuing along that vein, I'm not as satisfied with this chapter as I was with the last. Tobirama ended up having a lot more thoughts than I expected, and there are more little time skips than I'd like, but given that it was unplanned I think it turned out pretty well. And I really like the ending! 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments on the last chapter. I won't be continuing this fic, as I've got other Naruto stories I want to focus on and I want to put at least a couple more drabbles in my Akatsuki Drabbles before I go home for Christmas next month, but I'm glad I was convinced to add this chapter.

Despite its inevitability, Tobirama found himself dreading the next time he would meet Izuna on the battlefield.  Both because he might not be the first one there, meaning Senju shinobi would die at the hands of someone who lived only due to Tobirama’s error in judgement, and because he had every intention of remedying his mistake as soon as possible. 

He didn’t regret healing Izuna, exactly.  Rather it was Izuna’s continued existence he regretted, and even that he hadn’t begun to feel any real guilt over until he’d returned to the Senju compound two days earlier, only to stop halfway to his laboratory as a pair of children ran past, overly large weapons clutched tight in diminutive hands.  His own hands still tingling with healing chakra directed at one of their most powerful enemies, and faced with children only just of age to join the battlefield—still too young, still _far_ too young—Tobirama had only been able to feel horror.  The rest of the day had been an automated blur as the guilt had set in, burrowing deep each time he passed another shinobi who’d never survive a fight with Izuna.  The level of threat Izuna posed was no different from before, save that Tobirama had been the one to enable its continuation, would be the one responsible for all the Senju he would kill.  He’d known that immediately, but it was far different close up.  Far worse.  So, to make up for it, he needed to kill Izuna. 

It would be disturbingly simple.  Given that he arrived first to their next battle—and there would be a next battle, there always was—he should even be able to do it without any more Senju blood spent.  The clan would celebrate the death of someone they collectively despised almost as much as Madara, and his mistake would cost the Senju nothing.  It would cost Hashirama everything.  Or at least so much Tobirama knew he would count it as everything, would weep and mourn while the clan celebrated.  Would put up a brittle front as his dream died at the hands of his last brother, and Tobirama wouldn’t even be able to consider him overdramatic.  Even if were to somehow still get his wish, it would be a forever broken thing, with little lasting potential.  Because Tobirama was going to kill Izuna, and Madara would never forgive such a thing.  That was fine, Tobirama didn’t expect him to.  He didn’t expect Hashirama to either.  (He hoped he would)

A sharp pain in his finger drew his eyes down, and he stared at the kunai he’d been fiddling with, the small nick he’d made not enough to leave a smear on the pristine blade. 

Utterly unassuming, and the thing that would ruin any chance of peace between the Senju and the Uchiha.  Flipping it over, he dragged a thumb across the seal etched there.  That, of course, implied that there had been a chance in the first place.  There hadn’t been, and it wouldn’t do any good thinking on it.  Tobirama had created the Hiraishin, the Hiraishingiri, specifically to work faster than the sharingan could track.  Specifically to kill Uchiha.  To kill Izuna.  Any concerns he might’ve had were easily brushed aside in the many months he’d spent developing the technique, so why was it so hard to ignore now?

The unwelcome sound of Izuna saying that Madara would cry if he died echoed in the back of Tobirama’s mind, and he scowled, tightening his grip and pushing away the image of Izuna’s too pale face, wide-eyed, miserable, and so uselessly determined to make it home to his brother.  The memory of Izuna pushing himself to his feet again and again long after he’d should’ve stayed down cropped up instead, and Tobirama shoved himself to his feet and twisted, flinging the kunai across the clearing and activating the seal barely a moment later. 

Catching the kunai in his free hand meters from where he’d been not even a second earlier, Tobirama glared at his reflexively unsheathed sword.  He’d come out here to practice, to work on compensating for the drag of flesh and bone at such high speeds, but found himself unmotivated, the same as he’d been for too long now.  The ramifications of putting a name to the flesh and bone he’d be parting.  Damn Hashirama, and his insistence on regularly lecturing Tobirama about peace. 

There was no chance for peace.  Hashirama’s hope was the hope of a fool, and this would change nothing.  He’d be, upset, with Tobirama for what he had to do, but Tobirama had suffered his irritation before.  Even his anger, though that’d been more often back when their father still lived.

A sudden spike in his brother’s chakra cut through his senses as if summoned by ill thoughts, and Tobirama’s head snapped around, squinting in Hashirama’s direction like he could see through the many trees and house between them.  There was no alarm in Hashirama’s chakra, and that was the only reason he wasn’t on his way already.  Instead it felt almost, happy? Excited?

Tobirama let out a soft snort.  Likely he’d received word that Mito was returning from her visit back home.  Hashirama could get ridiculously excited over the simplest things.  It was almost amusing, in some childlike way.  As long as he wasn’t too close to Tobirama, that was.  Hashirama tended to get grabby when he was excited.

Sighing, he flicked the kunai through his fingers, closing his eyes for a moment to ground himself.  Regards of his thoughts now, he’d saved Izuna in that forest, and had to face the consequences.  A fight with the Uchiha could break out at any moment, so he _needed_ to have the Hiraishingiri ready before it did.  A quick, clean death, and it would be over, for better or worse. 

And if Tobirama was determinedly not remembering the feel of a small body—they were of the same age, why was Izuna so _small_ —huddled close against his, well.  That was no one’s business but his own.

 

 

It wasn’t until evening that Tobirama saw his brother again, and by then he’d nearly forgotten about Hashirama’s earlier excitement.  Nearly forgotten, but it was brought right back to the forefront of his mind by the, odd, way Hashirama was acting.  He was, twitchy.  Unusually twitchy.  Even beyond his usual level of ‘I’ve got a surprise and I’m not telling’.  Whatever Tobirama did, sooner or later Hashirama would explode with the news, so he wasn’t too concerned about prying it out of him.

“We’ve been having good weather lately.” Tobirama said casually midway into the meal, reaching out to serve himself more soba. 

“Yes! Great weather!” Hashirama agreed, not noticing as the tororo he was attempted to eat slipped out onto his lap.  “It’s beautiful! Very peaceful.”

Tobirama nodded, eating his own food far more delicately.  “Yet I’m not sure it will last.  We are approaching the rainier seasons.”

“Yes! But you don’t know that! Maybe it will last, maybe it could last forever!” Hashirama exclaimed, completely bypassing the idea of seasons in general.  “And that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try anyways! It could turn out really, really well!”

Tobirama gave Hashirama a _look_.  “Of course.” He agreed.  “If we try hard enough, I’m sure we can stop the rain for good.”

“Exactly!” Hashirama crowed, as if having won some great victory.  “We’ve just got to work together! The Uchiha are all ready, so all we’ve got to do is convince the rest of the Senju, and then we’ll have peace!”

_What._

“What.” Tobirama stated.

“It shouldn’t be that hard.” Hashirama rambled on, oblivious to Tobirama’s confusion and dawning horror.  “I already know a bunch of people who’ll be on board, and with the cease fire and you backing me up, it won’t be too hard to get everyone else to give it a chance.”

“The _what?_ ” Tobirama asked, peripherally noticing a small plop as the noodles slid off his own slackened chopsticks. 

“The ceasefire!” Hashirama went on cheerfully.  “We’ll have to meet up first to mark down the details, but he says that after ‘a period of time for accumulation’, they’re open for peace talks!”

Tobirama was pretty sure there were literal sparkles floating around Hashirama’s head, but he couldn’t devote the necessary amount of brain power to be concerned about it, too busy scanning for what he’d missed. 

“Peace talks?” He repeated.  “Hashirama, what are you talking about?”

Still beaming, Hashirama turned to face his brother, only to falter suddenly, deflating and scratching the back of his head nervously.  “Aha, oops? I mean to lead with, well.” He laughed again awkwardly, a brilliant smile appearing on his face before he squashed it back down.  “Madara sent a letter earlier today.  He’s asking for a ceasefire with the eventual expectation of peace talks!”

Tobirama blinked.  Bit his lip and contemplated his soba.  Blinked again.  Contemplated Hashirama. 

The Uchiha were asking for a ceasefire? What had- _What_?

“Uchiha Madara is asking for a ceasefire with the eventual expectation of peace talks.” No, it didn’t make any more sense when he was the one to say it.  “Did he say what prompted this?”

Having been party to too much of Hashirama’s unhappy bemoaning about how Madara would no longer consider his offers of peace, Tobirama hadn’t thought anything could get the man to make an effort towards Hashirama’s dream.  The timing made the Uchiha’s reasoning obvious, but the thought of him succeeding where Hashirama had failed, succeeding without even _trying_ to, all because of pity and a desire to keep Hashirama happy for even just a bit longer…

“Nope.” Hashirama answered blithely, then paused, biting his lip and looking at Tobirama shyly.  “You’ll help me convince them though, right?”

And oh, this wasn’t even the puppy eye look Hashirama tended to adopt while trying to needle Tobirama into going along with yet another crazy idea or social event.  That he could’ve said no to, if he’d wanted to.  That he’d built up some defence against.  Not this though.  This was just Hashirama, asking his brother for help in something that could very well be his greatest hope coming to fruition.

Sighing, Tobirama looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You’re sure this is real?”

“Yes!” Hashirama cheered, sensing Tobirama’s imminent capitulation and going in for the kill.  “Absolutely.  It’s definitely real, I’ve not heard Madara like this in _ages_ \- or, rather, Madara’s not written like that in ages, not that he used to write to me, we talked mo-“

“ _Hashirama._ ” Tobirama interrupted, lowering his hand to glower at his brother.

“Ah, right.  Yes, I’m sure.” Hashirama calmed himself somewhat, now sounding more like the strong and determined Senju clan head rather than the ever exuberant goofball he actually was.  Also was.  “This is everything I’ve been wanting for _years_.  A way to protect both our clans, our children, _you_.”

Tobirama let out a soft snort at that little bit of manipulation, not that it was meant in such a way, nor did he need protecting in the first place. 

It could easily be a lie, an ambush or some kind of trap.  It could also be exactly what Hashirama thought it was. 

Sighing, Tobirama looked back down at his soba, thinking.  Hadn’t the very thought of killing Izuna been filling him with uncharacteristic unease? If the best intentions of killing Hashirama’s dream were so terrible, would it really be so bad to actively work for it? It was still likely—highly likely—that this would fall apart in their faces, but, if it didn’t…

“This can only end in blood.” Tobirama mused, then added, while Hashirama’s face was still in the midst of falling, “But until then, I’ll support you.”

He had to squint at the brightness of Hashirama’s resulting smile. 

 

 

Indeed, with the two of them both putting their backing forth for the cessation of hostilities—especially given Tobirama’s firm stance against in the past—it didn’t take long for the clan to start thinking beyond it, considering what this could eventually mean.  There also wasn’t nearly as much disgruntlement as he’d thought there’d be when Hashirama picked out a small delegation to meet the Uchiha for negotiations regarding initial terms of the ceasefire.  There was some dissent over Hashirama _and_ Tobirama going, but there was no way Tobirama was letting his brother go alone, nor was there any chance of him being the main negotiator to something he still didn’t quite believe in.  As compromise, and because it was unavoidable, all the shinobi left behind were put on high alert, and Tobirama kept his sensory range stretched wide, fully prepared to act if something regarding the Uchiha happened out of the ordinary. 

Still, it was slightly strange how, after the initial reaction, the general response actually seemed positive.  Positive, that was, for the idea of peace with a clan who’d slaughtered so many of their own over such a long time that the initial reason for fighting had been lost to memory, but that was to be expected.  Given that he was correct on just why the Uchiha had suddenly decided peace was an option, Tobirama also expected the collective anger at him at least, to rise again.  He’d not planned on telling anyone about healing Izuna, but even if he was wrong, the story would likely still eventually get out.  Hopefully it’d be later, once things had time to acclimatize, but he doubted he’d be so lucky.  Not that he could blame them.  Had any member of his clan saved the life of one of the Uchiha who’d killed either of his brothers, they’d die for their mistake.  Privilege of being next in line for clan head. 

 

 

It was, _strange_ , actually meeting and speaking with the Uchiha’s equally small party, both Izuna and Madara there to match himself and Hashirama.  The former appeared far healthier than the last time Tobirama had seen him, while the latter glared at him suspiciously in-between pretending not to beam at Hashirama, growing steadily worse and worse at the deception as the meeting went on. 

Not all the Uchiha appeared too pleased about the decisions made, nor the reoccurring theme of things to be added to the official alliance later on, but to be fair, not all of the Senju were happy about it either.  They at least had had the undercurrent of having heard Hashirama’s many peace rants over the years, more frequently when some time had passed in-between clashes with the Uchiha, but Tobirama could only wonder at what the Uchiha had been told.  Given the curious looks Tobirama was shot all throughout the meeting, he had a pretty good idea of it.  He also doubted he’d make it out of the meeting without everyone knowing, so wasn’t surprised when, just as their agreement drew to a close with a full month’s test trial ahead of them and he’d dared to think he might get out of this intact, Hashirama stuck his curious head in the matter. 

“So,” Hashirama said, the chipper tone colouring his voice making something in Tobirama’s brain sit up warily.  “I have to admit I had doubts you’d still consider peace an option, let alone reach out yourself.” He continued, so uncharacteristically different from his endlessly naïve faith that Tobirama almost did a double take, reflexively scanning his brother’s chakra for abnormalities.  “Can I ask what changed?”

Madara tilted his head, brow furrowed in something approaching confusion.  Tobirama caught the flick of his eyes his way, and knew he was doomed.  Ah well.  His eardrums and ribs had had a good run while Hashirama’s obliviousness lasted. 

“Given your brother’s previous stance on peace and his more recent actions to the contrary,” Madara began, still so innocently confused as he sealed Tobirama’s fate.  “I found myself reconsidering my own stance.”

“My brother’s, actions...?” Hashirama repeated, turning to look at Tobirama, back at Madara, then back to Tobirama.  “Tobi, what did you-?”

Tobirama firmly avoided Hashirama’s gaze, shooting a glare at Madara’s chin, then transferring the look to Izuna’s.  He’d not thought Izuna would be quiet about it, and given what came of it, he couldn’t exactly say he was angry—not yet, at least—but he really had been perfectly content with leaving Hashirama, and by extension his entire clan, in the dark about him healing one of their greatest enemies.  For the same reasons Tobirama had started to regret his decision upon coming home to children training to fight and die at Uchiha hands, he knew his actions would be looked upon unkindly.  By anyone but Hashirama, that was.  And while Tobirama could handle it, he didn’t exactly _want_ to. 

“Tobi?” Hashirama repeated, then turned back to the Uchiha, looking confused, and ridiculous, and still far too curious for his own good.  “What actions?”

“I was referring to Tobirama healing Izuna of his injuries during a recent mission.” Now Madara’s confusion had transformed into a mix between gleefulness and slight disgruntlement, and Tobirama hoped he choked on the fact that a _Senju_ was the only reason his brother was still alive.  Izuna sure didn’t look all too excited about it either, though his returning glare wasn’t anywhere near where it’d been during their, encounter.  “I’d assumed you’d been made aware?”

“You healed Izuna?” Hashirama turned to Tobirama, stunned.  Tobirama knew it was only a matter of time before the disbelief turned deadly.  He would _not_ be lulled into a false sense of security.  “Brother, you...?”

Movement in his peripheral was the only warning Tobirama got, and even then he was only just fast enough to retreat as an enthused screech erupted from Hashirama and his brother lunged.  Fingers outstretched for a bone breaking hug still brushed Tobirama’s arm, but it wasn’t worth revealing the Hiraishin to the Uchiha to avoid them.  Even if Hashirama’s enthusiasm could be just as deadly.

Wincing as every other shinobi at the riverbed stiffened, chakra spiking, Tobirama wondered if that was perhaps a bit more literal here than it usually would be.  Not that Hashirama couldn’t crush someone’s ribs with his hugs, just that their pained gasping usually stopped him first. 

“You actually listened to me! I knew you’d agree we could have peace!” Hashirama cried, widely grinning at Tobirama and making to advance once again. 

“ _I do n-!_ ” Damn, he couldn’t say that with their escorts and the Uchiha right there.  “No.  Stop it.  Don’t smother me, stop it.  There were reasons I didn’t say anything.”

Suspiciously obliging, Hashirama ceased his movement, but didn’t stop beaming up at Tobirama like a ridiculous fool and not the stoic clan head he’d somehow managed to trick them all into seeing over the course of the meeting.  Tobirama hadn’t fallen for it, adept as he was at recognizing when Hashirama would like nothing more than to smother someone—everyone present—with affection, but perhaps he had let his guard down, too focused on the Uchiha. 

He’d certainly had reason to be wary, Tobirama thought with a glare directed at Izuna.  “I distinctly recall saying that neither of us would be informing my brother of what occurred.”

Izuna had the audacity to laugh despite looking like he’d been kicked in the head by Hashirama’s enthusiasm.  “Must’ve been bleeding out when you said that, though I can’t say I’m sorry, this is hilarious.  And it’s your fault for healing me”

“A mistake I’m quite firmly regretting.” Tobirama snapped.  Damn the village Hashirama was so enthralled by, there was no way they’d make it out of the ceasefire without someone dying messily, though it was still a tossup as to whether it’d be Izuna or Hashirama.

“Tobi! Don’t say that!”

Probably Hashirama.

“A mistake you’ll have to make again next time I’m injured, given that we’re creating an _alliance_.” Izuna twisted the last word with a sneer, his amusement curling into something vicious.  Something familiar, and far easier to deal with than Hashirama’s exuberant glee, or the steadily growing discontent in certain points of chakra at his back.

“Given your fighting prowess in the past, I suppose it’s one I may have to get used to then.” Tobirama mocked.  It wasn’t true at all, there had been too many times times in the past he was certain he was about to die at the other’s hand, but he was too off base to care. He’d expected his clan mates to feel betrayed, it shouldn’t be anything in the realm approaching surprise. 

“Bold words for someone who came closest to actually killing me by stumbling over when I was already half-” Izuna’s teeth snapped shut, head jerking slightly towards Madara and the hand he’d lightly placed on Izuna’s arm.

“Regardless, I do greatly appreciate my brother’s survival.” Madara said evenly.  Tobirama wasn’t foolish enough to look Uchiha _Madara_ in the eye—not like he’d been with Izuna, _twice_ —but from what he could safely focus on, he appeared almost scarily calm, not displaying any of the genuine—if still confused—thankfulness in his voice.  “That _you_ were the one to ensure it, it made the dream Hashirama and I once had once again seem possible.”

He turned away from Tobirama in favour of Hashirama at that part, and Tobirama let out an inaudible sigh of relief, only to wonder if it had been too quick when he noticed Hashirama looking back, smiling warmly.  While he could no longer disprove of that, he didn’t agree that such familiarity made it okay to look any Uchiha directly in the eyes. 

To distract himself—and Hashirama, the trusting fool—he turned back to Izuna.  As little as he liked the idea of it, there was no room for feuding in the peace talks, not with so many in the Senju and presumably the Uchiha, who opposed the decision already. 

In many ways Hashirama was a fool and an idealist, but Tobirama couldn’t say he didn’t see the upsides to a secure village.  Even if it was with the monsters he’d fought since his hands were strong enough to grasp the hilt of a knife.  And while he still wasn’t convince this would last, _he_ wouldn’t be the reason for its end. 

“You’ve come very close to killing me before.” Tobirama offered by way of an apology, unable to come up with anything else. 

“As have you.” At least Izuna seemed somewhat distracted, tilting his head at Hashirama in almost disturbed disbelief.  Ha.  Showed him not everyone was afraid of the sharingan.  Not, that that was the reason Hashirama was so blithe with his safety, but Izuna hopefully didn’t know that.

Neither Hashirama nor Madara seemed appeased by Tobirama and Izuna’s reconciliation, but after commiserating looks that Tobirama did _not_ appreciate, and doubted Izuna felt any better about, they moved forward with finishing up the meeting anyways.  The anger in the chakra behind Tobirama didn’t lessen, but its owner—thankfully—tucked it away. 

 

Tobirama hadn’t expected to leave the talk without any snags, and wasn’t disappointed to find Izuna hovering behind after Hashirama and Madara’s surprisingly reserved farewells, leaving the safety of his fellows to approach Tobirama.  Already anticipating further distain for his revealed decision to save Izuna in the first place, Tobirama met him halfway.  Just far enough that they wouldn’t be overheard if they spoke quietly, and that Madara looked ready to fall into a shunshin at any even partially threatening move Tobirama made.  An over emotion lot, the Uchiha. Uselessly too. Tobirama’s hiraishin was so much faster.

Not entirely comfortable so close to his rival without a weapon in hand or a jutsu prepared, Tobirama fixed his gaze near Izuna’s mouth, waiting for him to make the first move.  Logically he knew Izuna wouldn’t be foolish enough to break the peace before it had even really begun.  He also knew that doing the same through reflex would be markedly more foolish, so he had to relax a _bit_ lest Izuna move too quickly and Tobirama end up chucking a jutsu at him.  Neither understanding stopped that same urge that had been hounding him the whole time he’d shadowed the wounded Uchiha from noting that Izuna was still not at full strength and thus would be easier to take down, especially with the distance from his clan mates and the specially marked kunai innocently sheathed against Tobirama’s side.

“We-” Izuna cut himself off, grimaced and jerked his hand up, halting the motion near immediately.  With a somewhat wary glance at Tobirama, he continued at a much slower pace, reaching into a fold in his clothes and pulling out a seal tag.  “We tried to copy it, but there was enough smearing that no one wanted to test it out.”

Tobirama examined the seal held out to him, easy recognizing it as the one he’d used on Izuna when the only other option would’ve been killing him.  Given the Uchiha’s near legendary pride in the face of other clan’s fighting styles, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it, but he supposed seals did have a fairly universal usefulness.

“A sleep seal, most commonly used in medical situations where the patient is at risk of harming themselves should they remain conscious.” He said, briefly hesitating before reaching out.  “You were correct not to try it, as it does need to be drawn in a specific order to ensure the least amount of physical stress, and in its current state would only cause deep headaches, perhaps unreliable paralysis.” They could’ve tested it on a prisoner of course, but he didn’t think that was the point.

Red sparked near the top of Tobirama’s line of sight, and he reflexively stiffened, chakra rising in a near wave through the Senju behind him, almost overlapped by that of the Uchiha.

“Ah, I didn’t-” Izuna pulled back a bit in a motion that couldn’t quite be called a flinch, and the red died away. 

Moving his hand so the gathered Senju could see the signal for _stop_ , Tobirama waited. 

“I thought you were going to trace out the seal.  I wanted to record it.” To his credit, Izuna did look apologetic, underneath the defiance.

Figured, that there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation and no cause for real alarm.  It did make sense that casual sharingan usage would be normal for them, rather than only when they wanted to slaughter their enemies.  Even so, that he would eventually have to get used to it didn’t mean he needed to begin doing so now.  It also didn’t mean that he shouldn’t. 

After a moment of thought, and making sure his hand signal was still visible, he nodded.  “Go ahead.”

Even had he not been a sensor it would’ve been easy to tell he’d surprised the Uchiha, so to avoid tainting his victory he did his best to hide his discomfort as red blossomed once again.  The hiraishin marked kunai near glowed at the edge of his vision, comfortingly close. 

Finally allowing the signal to fall, Tobirama reached towards the seal again as if nothing was wrong, retracing it in the order necessary.  “When it’s no longer required, the whole seal can be wiped away, returning the patient to consciousness.  Alternatively, as I did with you, this part may be removed first, allowing them to remain in a more natural, if deep, sleep.”

He could’ve explained the entirety of the seal, why certain parts worked as they did and how they were combined, but he suspected that extending this conversation too long might cause someone to fall dead from tension.  Even with his and Izuna’s falsely normalized treatment of the situation, neither clan had relaxed.

“Thank you.” Izuna said, taking the seal back and fiddling with it.  Given how potentially dangerous that was with some seals, Tobirama probably would end up explaining more to the Uchiha if only to avoid unnecessary casualties.  That that thought didn’t specify singular or plural, he decided to temporarily ignore. 

Nodding in acceptance, Tobirama semi-patiently waited.  While he wasn’t the most social person, he suspected that had not been the sole reason Izuna pulled him aside.  However long it would take for the other to get to it was still up in the air. 

Ignoring the continued fidgeting so he didn’t get the urge to start that treatment of seals lesson right away, Tobirama found himself examining the Uchiha up close for the first time outside the expectation of violence—and becoming slightly stressed at how pleasant he was to look at, all lithe power and soft lines—getting distracted enough that he almost startled when Izuna finally spoke again.

“I don’t know why you did it, or, I guess it was for your brother, because our brother’s used to be, or maybe still are friends.  Either way, you weren’t doing it for me, so I’m not going to thank you for it.” Izuna started challengingly, his conviction at odds with the almost contemplative way he stared down at the sleep seal, sharingan still active.  “But.  Hmm.  Madara’s been trying to convince me of his grand ideals for peace since I followed him here, to the river, and I always thought it was the ravings of whatever naivety he had left, that peace could never happen.  Delusional, but ultimately harmless. 

“And maybe it can’t.  It probably can’t, and we’ll all be calling for each other’s blood within a week.” Izuna snorted softly, then looked back up at Tobirama, sharingan fading away.  “But now, after what you did, after you, _healed_ me, I think, there might be a chance that it can.  That it works.  So for that, and for how excited my brother is over the whole thing, for that I guess I’ll thank you.” He grimaced, then awkwardly added.  “Thank you.”

Tobirama blinked.  That was the most he’d ever heard or seen Izuna say.  It was also, rather enlightening.

“I also have doubts about the outcome,” He hesitatingly admitted, then took a leap.  That’s what this whole thing had started on, after all.  “But I had doubts about healing you as well,” Best not to mention how he had intended to quiet those doubts, “And given how that turned out, perhaps this will end similarly.  Or not end at all.”

 “Hn.  Perhaps.  I guess if the four of us are championing it, we really do have a chance.”  Izuna agreed, and this time, the silence between them was almost comfortable.  Izuna letting out a little laugh startled Tobirama again, almost tricking him into looking the Uchiha full in the face.  “Though I’m quite glad I’ll be at Madara’s side for it.  Good luck dealing with your own brother.”

Tobirama wrinkled his nose.  That was a very long conversation he was _not_ looking forward to.  He’d been so close, too.  “That was uncalled for.  Had you not said anything, I could’ve put that conversation off for at least another month.”

Izuna laughed again, and now Tobirama had to look away.  He’d never heard the Uchiha laugh before in anything but bloody triumph or viciousness, and it was actually, rather cute, in a weirdly, vaguely murderous way.  Though perhaps that added descriptor was only because of the situations they usually encountered each other in. It might be interesting to find out. 

“You deserved it.” Izuna scowled, and it wasn’t even mostly real.  “Especially after what you did to my crest.  Madara almost gave himself a heart attack when he saw it.  I didn’t think he’d ever let me out of the compound again.”

Unbidden, a slight smile tugged at the corner of Tobirama’s lips.  He’d regretted that part as soon as he’d gotten far enough from Izuna that he could think again, but looking back it _was_ fairly amusing.  He’d just, been so _angry_ with the Uchiha at the time.

It was probably too early to reply that they could all be so lucky or something along that line, not to mention he wasn’t sure yet how true it might accidentally be.  He supposed it depended on whether their peace survived or not. 

“I thought it looked better that way.” He settled on, smirking as Izuna’s glare turned a touch more real.

“It did not, and if you don’t want our brothers to turn it into their new crest once they convince everyone else to go along with their village, you won’t mention that lie ever again.” Izuna’s glare was lost in surprise as he trailed off, and Tobirama’s breath caught in his throat.

“They will, won’t they.” He said after a moment, the full implications hitting him in a way they hadn’t even while considering the logistics of peace and the meeting they’d just been through.  “They’ll have their village.  There’s no stopping this now.”

“As doubtful as I am that this will end in anything but tears, perhaps that’s a-” Izuna hesitated, and Tobirama knew he wanted to say good, but still couldn’t believe it.  That was fine, neither could he.

“It could be, indeed.” He murmured.

For a few more seconds they stood and contemplated the new future stretching out before their clans, then Izuna tilted his head down, taking a step back.  “Thank you for your correction on the seal.  Until next time, Senju.”

Tobirama mirrored the nod.  “Uchiha.” Reminded of Izuna’s fidgeting, he added, “Perhaps one day I’ll show you why it works as it does, and why mindlessly creasing certain seals can easily lead to a decrease in limb count.”

Izuna’s hand jumped to the pocket he’d put the seal away in, then he accused, “You’re lying.”

Tobirama tilted his head down in agreement.  “About _that_ seal.  Perhaps.”

“Then which-” Izuna began, then cut himself off with a shake of his head.  “Fuck off Senju.  Tobirama.”

Still smiling, Tobirama turned away.  Then, on a whim, threw back over his shoulder in something resembling a purr, “You as well, _Izuna_.”

The abrupt awkwardness suffused throughout Izuna’s entire being made following through with that impulse entirely worth it.

Walking back to the rest of the Senju, his back to their clan’s lifelong enemies, Tobirama found he didn’t feel nearly as threatened as he should have.  Not all of the shinobi who’d come with them felt exactly _pleased_ , nor all on the Uchiha side, but Hashirama was grinning widely, turning away only momentarily to wave a final goodbye to Madara before falling in step with his brother. 

“So.” Hashirama began cheerily as the others followed at a respectable distance, the Uchiha in Tobirama’s senses beginning their own journey home.  “You saved Madara’s little brother’s life.”

“I did.” Tobirama agreed.  Just because this was inevitable, didn’t mean he had to make it easy.  He knew what Hashirama was going to ask, and after the display Hashirama had made during the meeting, he fully intended on making the man work for it.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised.” Hashirama mock-mused as if to distract him from his near visible happiness.  “I didn’t think you wanted peace with the Uchiha, or even if you did, that you’d go that far for it.”

“I didn’t think peace was possible.” Tobirama corrected. 

It had indeed always seemed like such a far removed thing, a fantasy of his brother’s, but not one that could occur anywhere outside his mysterious, hyperactive brain.  That it was now a not so distant future, Tobirama still hadn’t decided what to think. 

“Didn’t.’” Hashirama repeated.  “But you do now.  Enough so that you healed Izuna.  I- I’m not sure I understand why?”

That was, a lot more reserved than he’d expected.  But then again, Tobirama reflected, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye, perhaps he wasn’t giving Hashirama enough credit.  Distracted by his own ridiculousness as he often was, he had always cared for and tried to accommodate Tobirama, whether he understood him or not. 

“They asked for a ceasefire.” He said, still not entirely sure how to answer the actual question.  Despite Hashirama’s general wordiness, they weren’t exactly a verbally demonstrative family.

“That was after you healed Izuna.” Hashirama pointed out, unwilling to allow retreat.

“Hmm.” He agreed.  He didn’t have to say it, but it was Hashirama, so, slowly, he began.  “I didn’t believe it was possible when I healed Izuna.  I just knew that you were still hopelessly, unreasonably, stupidly fond of Madara, and I’ve noticed you mourning with him before, noticed you watching out for them by sending me away and limiting Senju instigated fights where you could.  In battle it’s one thing.” He added, determinedly staring ahead and ignoring the vibrating man beside him, “But when I found him.” A sigh.  “You always said Madara wanted the village for his brothers.  I didn’t want you mourning that too.  Not when I could change it.”

Tobirama was pretty sure that Hashirama’s vibrating had reached a frequency so high he might soon be able to phase through rock, but was thankful that the other at least seemed to be holding it in.  As loud as he could be in general, for Tobirama it could be a bit much.  With such blatant emotions being aired, it definitely would be.

“I’m-” Hashirama took a deep breath, forcibly relaxing himself in a way that Tobirama knew meant he would explode with excitement as soon as they returned to the village.  “I’m glad you did.”

Tilting his head, Tobirama considered it, and thought of the anger still simmering around them, a reasonable ire that was likely to only spread when they returned to the village.  Thought of the wonder with which Hashirama had always spoke of peace, matched only by Tobirama’s general disbelief in the idea.  Thought of the children he feared he’d killed by healing Izuna, and the possibility that in a village they wouldn’t need to fight until they were old enough to actually do so, where they wouldn’t die on their first outings.  Thought of the small laugh Izuna had let out while they were talking.  The way he’d so trustingly curled into Tobirama’s chest when he’d mistaken him for his beloved brother.  Thought of the possibility that the next generation could keep their siblings alive. 

 “I’m not sure if I am yet.” Tobirama admitted, then held up a hand before Hashirama could sputter out assurances.  A hand that had been stained red at an age even he knew was far too young.  If he could be sure that no other child would need to bloody themselves before their time…

“But I think I will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know of any typos/inconsistencies/etc. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Also, during the writing of this chapter I came to the somewhat startling realization that I have no idea how to write Hashirama. It's just? Really hard? To figure him out? And I don't understand why??
> 
> One last thing. I'm writing a long fic with Izuna, Madara, and Tobirama--who knows when it'll get finished--but I keep running into the shipping issue. Id est, I want to ship all three of them. I may do a variation regardless, I don't know, haven't gotten that far in anything save the general outline, but I wanted opinions nonetheless. Is that a thing? Do/would people read that? Obviously no sex scenes, I swore off those when I realized that I will actually look back on what I've written in a few years--the _horror_ \--but what kind of relationship would people like to see/not stop reading due to?  
> EDIT: Thank you for all your thoughts and opinions! I've decided I'm going to go with Tobirama/Madara and Toibrama/Izuna with codependent familial Madara&Izuna connecting them. Even so, feel free to continue letting me know what you think. :)
> 
> Thank you very much!


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